The Four Gods of Rice
by Lhye
Summary: SPOILERS. Don't read unless you finished the series: The four samurai who are honored eternally in Kanna have a long time to spend together as they watch passing days, guardians of the village and the rice.
1. Forgiven

**WARNING** for the spoilers. Finish the series before reading.

This is the companion to "Two Gods of Rice", but it's a stand alone. You don't need to read the other one first.  
I was thinking of making a one-shot compaion going over Kyuzo's death. Does anyone make this request as encouragement?

**WELL** I decided to make this in a small series. Basically drabbles.

Who knows when it will end.

* * *

"Well now, it looks like everything turned out alright." Heihachi stretched his arms out overhead and folded them, hands behind his head. A jovial smile stretched and curved his lips.

"'Alright'!? HOW is it 'alright'!?" Kikuchiyo roared, "We're all _dead!_"

Somewhere nearby a cicada chirped, and a bird called in a sweet whistle in the distance. Aside from some piles of charcoal and ash, previously homes which had only recently been burned down, the scenery was peaceful. At the moment it was nearly midday, and the sun was bright, but not strong enough to bother. Not that they would be able to tell anyway.

"_We_ might be, but the others came back, the Captial was stopped, and Kanna is still standing." Heihachi crossed his legs, "I'd call that a win."

"But we're _dead!_" Kikuchiyo protested mournfully. To the observant, he seemed more frustrated at Heihachi's lack of caring than at actually being a floating image.

"Aw, it's not that bad." Heihachi began to whistle. "It's better than being in pain, isn't it?"

"Look at us!" Kikuchiyo whined. "Out of the seven of us, four of us died!"

On a ridge overlooking a steep drop into noble forests, four mounds of dug earth were the alters to the weapons of gone warriors. In a row their small monuments were lined. Four fallen samurai loitered around their humble but heartfelt graves. Behind them their makeshift flag fluttered in a mild breeze.

Rubbing his chin wisely, Gorobei mused, "It's a miracle anyone survived at all. Tell me friends, how did you all come to this end? You all know what happened to me, but I'd like to know about you. I watched the Capital go down from here, but I want to know what really happened."

Wisps of smoke rose from burning incense; vases of offered flowers and small dishes of food and rice sat in front of each, charmingly sentimental.

"Uhh," Heihachi smiled sheepishly. He gazed at the especially high mound of rice beneath him, as he sat midair above his old sword. The most youthful face of the four remembered how Kirara had insisted with a nostalgic smile and apologetic eyes on favoring Heihachi in distributing the rice brought for the memorials; she had known as much as anyone how he treasured Kanna rice."I'm sloppy, so while I was setting up for the main engines to be disconnected, I got pinned to the wall by a weapon and, well, just chose to go down with them."

Gorobei gave an impressed whistle. "What a heroic death."

"Ah, it's nothing. I was clumsy." Humble, Heihachi bowed his head. "You were much more noble in death than I was."

"And Kikuchiyo?"

"Holding back the Capital from the village." Kikuchiyo grumbled.

Peering across the canyon at the mountain-sized wreckage, Gorobei commented, "Looks like it worked."

"Kyuzo-dono," Heihachi looked over to the stiff figure two yards away from him. Although silent, he was sure Kyuzo had been listening. What else did he have to do anyway? "You came to get me just before I passed, but I didn't actually see you die. It was the bullet, wasn't it?"

"Katsushiro."

"Huh? What about him?"

"He killed me." Kyuzo's arms were crossed over his narrow chest. He didn't bother looking at any of them.

Stunned, the other three stared at Kyuzo for more explanation. Heihachi's brow furrowed; the word _traitor_ came to his mind automatically, but somehow he couldn't quite picture it. Katsushiro as a traitor didn't seem possible.

As if sensing the malice rising off Heihachi, Kyuzo added, "It was an accident."

"He accidently killed you? Like friendly fire?" Gorobei scratched behind his ear uncomfortably.

"He was protecting Kambei." Kyuzo went on, "An enemy was about to kill him. Katsushiro had lost his sword and used a gun within reach to save him. I had been behind the soldier."

A chill crept over them.

"He had no idea I was there." Kyuzo confirmed.

"That's....unfortunate." Heihachi's eyes were wide.

"Man....what a way to die." Kikuchiyo's voice became low. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his head.

"I'm not sure which one of you to feel more sorry for." Gorobei laughed heartily.

"What do you mean not sure who to feel worse for!?" Instantly Kikuchiyo was baffled and angry. "Kyuzo's the dead one, isn't he!?"

"Ah, but keep in mind Katsushiro has to live with that mistake. And as far as I can tell, Kyuzo-dono here seems pretty good to me."

Saying nothing, Kyuzo's eyes wandered with reluctant curiosity at the small arrangement of personal offerings villagers had left. Stuck awkwardly in the ground, a strip of bark bore a child's clumsy handwriting, barely legible as _Kyuzo-dono._

Heihachi's eyes followed Kyuzo's gaze. Sitting cross-legged, hovering over his grave, he leaned over to peer at it, and smiled. "That's cute."

Kyuzo watched it, still as a statue, ignoring Heihachi's comment. He then took his eyes away to instead gaze into the distance again. Without anyone to continue the conversation, Heihachi drifted into his own thoughts and remained content in thoughtful silence.

The peace went on for only several minutes before bored Kikuchiyo complained, "This sucks. What are we supposed to do, eh? Nothing to occupy ourselves with."

"There's plenty." Heihachi idly commented. "We can watch the villagers rebuild, there's always the bird flying, the rice growing..."

Ignoring the suggestions, the machine man broke in, "Hey, let's trade stories. I mean, how much do we know about each other anyway? And we're dead, so why hide it now?"

He didn't get a response. Looking around, it only took a few moment for him to become quickly aggravated at Heihachi and Gorobei's blank stares and Kyuzo's blatant disinterest. "Oh come on, what's wrong with that? We're going to be spending a long time here together I guess, so why not learn who we're with?"

With a smile, Heihachi pointed out, "Isn't that why we shouldn't rush into talking too much anyway? Take your time and relax. We'll learn things when and if we need to."

Scratching his head, Kikuchiyo pondered this and Gorobei added, "I don't think you could get much out of Kyuzo-dono no matter how much you bothered him anyway."

"Oh yeah, Mr. Strong-and-Silent!" Kikchiyo taunted. Kyuzo didn't move, but his eyes roamed over to Kikuchiyo, coldly thoughtful, as if wondering he was worth the hassle. Seemingly not, because after private consideration, his eyes wandered elsewhere.

"Hey! He's ignoring me!"

"What did you expect?" Heihachi chuckled. "Gorobei-dono just warned you not to expect much from him. Leave him be, Kikuchiyo."

"What for?" Kikuchiyo pouted, "Who's he trying to impress anyway?"

"No one," Heihachi blinked, puzzled. "That's his personality. You know that. You're just bored, Kikuchiyo-dono. Better learn to lighten up or you'll drive yourself nuts that way."

Continuing to sulk by himself, Kikuchiyo didn't answer. Heihachi exchanged glances with Gorobei, and shrugged, an _I tried!_ smile on his face. Nodding in agreement, Gorobei suppressed a soft laugh.

Some time passed, the sun dropped farther and farther down; late afternoon arrived uneventfully and the sun was about to touch the horizon. The warriors remained more or less peaceful, with occasional conversation between Heihachi and Gorobei, and outbursts from Kikuchiyo. As in life, Kyuzo remained solitary.

"Oh, hey!" Kikuchiyo broke an unusually long silence between them and announced, "Katsu's here!"

All of them glanced up. Secretly, Heihachi looked out of the corner of his eye at Kyuzo. Facing one's murderer, even accidental, could leave a soul in a sour mood. Katsushiro had unintentionally robbed Kyuzo of his life, and what could have perhaps even been more unforgivable to Kyuzo, that long-awaited fight with Kambei.

Giving no dramatic reaction, Kyuzo watched as Katsushiro peeked over his shoulder, seemingly wanting to ensure he was alone. The young warrior swept his youthfully bright, albeit hardened eyes from left to right. His gaze ran back and fourth several times, reverence evident in his features.

Kneeling carefully and slowly, perhaps still in pain from the recent battle, Katsushiro's eyes lingered on Kyuzo's grave.

It was being made clear to all of them was that Katsushiro was not about to forgive himself; not for this.

Three pairs of eyes turned to Kyuzo's ghostly form. The warrior's cold face, his burning eyes, were focused with unnatural intensity, pushing an intangible burden onto still-young shoulders. They then turned back to Katsushiro.

As if he could feel the ghost's stare, Katsushiro winced and his mouth tightened. He cast another cautious glance over his shoulders and scanned the area behind him. Once assured he was truly by himself, perhaps sensing in some way he wasn't, he looked once again towards Kyuzo's grave; of course he wasn't able to see the four spirits in front of him, watching down upon him as though in judgement.

Surprisingly, he began to speak, quietly at first. None could hear him in the beginning. Between the four lined samurai, there was an understanding of silence. It took several false starts, but a clearly embarrassed Katsushiro gained confidence enough to speak audibly, to no one he could see.

"....Kyuzo-dono," Katsushiro struggled to remain solemn despite his discomfort. "I cannot apologize enough for what I've done. Sadly, I can't even think of a way to repent for it. All I can offer you truly is my most sincere shame at my clumsy behavior. My inexperience and my resulting panic and desperation ended with your death."

Kyuzo leaned his head slightly back, as if thinking, and his eyes still trained on the boy crouching ceremoniously closer to his grave than the others. The man slowly uncrossed his arms and let them hang at his sides.

After another long pause, Katsushiro swallowed hard and smiled only slightly, sheepishly. "I first thought of taking my own life to compensate. But my life is not worth as much as yours was. I'd still be in debt."

The four samurai watched in their solemn arrangement, as though judges gazing upon the plea of a guilty man.

"I know it is nothing, but the best way I can think to honor you personally is to always remember your strength, carry with me the memories of your amazing abilities as a warrior. Although it pains me terribly, I will take care to never forget what I've done, so I can at least promise that you were never bested. To the very end, none of us had ever seen your defeat at the hands of another warrior's blade; it was bad fate that led to your accidental death."

"Katsu...." Kikuchiyo muttered, respect in his voice.

"Of course, I'll never forget the others either." Katsushiro continued, and stood up, casually brushing some loose dirt from his pants. "Never...but in honor of you, in the immense respect and awe for you, I will live on, and live as a samurai. Living with this horrid burden of being responsible for your death is the way I now believe I can honor you best."

With a last, long look at the four graves and at Kyuzo's twin swords, erected emerging from the burial mound and crossing each other, a powerful image to any passerby, Katsushiro heaved a long sigh and turned. As he strode away, he seemed to fade in presence, shoulders slumping and head bowing down, strong footsteps crumbling to the shuffle of a punished child.

None of them said much after that. The sincerity of Katsushiro's half-prayer, half-apology had left them in a mood for quiet. The moon had radiated dull light for some time. It was near midnight by now. Kyuzo occupied himself by staring up at the nearly complete marble in the sky. Heihachi watched winds they would never feel again brush over the fields and the grass sway beneath its gentle force. After some time, Gorobei joined him, and Kikuchiyo lounged silently.

"He's not much of a child anymore." Gorobei commented after a while.

"Maybe not." Heihachi remarked. "But not many people can walk out the other side of a war being the same person, especially a samurai."

"Guess not."

All of them were in deep thought, sparked by Katsushiro's surprising visit.

"Think death is gonna be boring?" Heihachi wondered aloud.

"We'll find out." Gorobei laughed warmly, his voice echoing into the silence.

Heihachi smiled and nodded approvingly.

Stepping slowly, the moon made its way another hour forward. Over the past few days, they had discovered not much changed physically between life and death; they still craved periodic sleep. Now they began to doze off, lulled by the soundless melody of the sky over the finally peaceful Kanna village.

Although all of them hovered above their graves, Kyuzo stayed firmly on the ground, back facing his swords, maybe reminiscent of the weapons being strapped endlessly to his back in life. Lost in thought, the solemn man broke his gaze on his target for the time, a nearby tree with vines winding around the trunk and the branches. He turned his head to the left, where several hours earlier Katsushiro had stood, and all but begged for his forgiveness.

For some time he stared at the spot where the youngest samurai had stood, crossed his arms. Eventually, he let out a deep breath, shoulders dropping slightly with the exhale, and he said quietly;

"Forgiven."

"Hmm?" Sleepily, Heihachi rubbed his eye, having almost been asleep. "You say something, Kyuzo-dono?"

Kyuzo said nothing. Heihachi didn't bother further, figuring he was hearing things, and let himself drift off again.

Although he would never be able to explain why, Katsushiro slept unnaturally peacefully that night.

* * *

Originally it was a one-shot but it kept going on my computer screen...and going...so I broke up what I had written. So I have basically another chapter written.

Hope that was enjoyed. Please review :)


	2. Eating

It's been a while...but hey. Why not. :)

* * *

Maybe it wasn't surprising that spirits kept the same habits they had in life; all four samurai were wide awake little before the sunrise. Heihachi, figuring there was nothing better to do, tried in vain to sleep again, stretched out on the ground before his grave. He soon gave up, and Gorobei remarked that old habits died hard. Unlike themselves.

The reception to that particular joke varied.

Later in the morning, as the villagers all at once begun to stir and go along their routines. Men continued repair on the homes and fences, women strode out into the fields to work. Once in a while they caught sight of the lingering samurai passing through, giving instructions, offering help, or just wandering by.

Things began to settle after the morning rush. The row of graves were slightly apart from the main village; although they were not able from their tombs to watch the daily life of the peasants they had saved, they could hear and feel the vibrating energy from the renewed spirits of the people.

"This is so boring." Kikuchiyo complained, "What are we supposed to _do?_ We can't talk to anyone, we can't move, we're just floating around our graves. This is pointless. We're samurai, we have things to do."

"What things?" Heihachi smiled. "Our job is done here."

"But I see Kikuchiyo's point." Gorobei scratched behind his head. "We can't just sit here and do nothing for the rest of....our...what would you call this? Existence?"

"I dunno." Heihachi didn't seem bothered, except for the bowl of rice a villager placed down in front of each of the graces. "But....I mean....I'm hungry."

"I think we all are." Gorobei stroked his chin curiously. "But we can't touch anything, can we?"

All four of them looked at the food offerings left for them in front of their graves. Between them there was the mutual assumption that they weren't able to actually eat it.

Kyuzo furrowed his brow and knelt down. The other three watched as he reached for the slightly chipped bowl of rice, chopsticks sticking straight up as in the custom of offering. Dismally, his hand passed straight through it, as expected.

Heihachi sighed. "Aw, man...the rice....the riiiicee...."

But Kyuzo's eyes were focused, looking intently upon his hand. With concentration, he reached for the bowl again, more slowly, and this time, to his companions' shock, he came up with the bowl in his palm.

The bowl was still on the ground. An ethereal image, at first semi-transparent had come up with his hand, and become more solid as it remained in his palm until his muscles visibly tensed under the full weight of a rather large bowl piled high with rice.

"WOAH Kyuzo, how'd you do that!?" Kikuchiyo, awed, immediately reached for the bowl in front of his grave, and equally as quickly became aggravated, passing his hands through the untouchable food multiple times.

Instead, Heihachi and Gorobei watched impressed as Kyuzo looked cautiously at the bowl in his left hand, and slowly lifted the chopsticks with his right.

"How _did_ you do that, actually?" Heihachi tilted his head.

"Technique." Was the deep-voiced response. The other two samurai looked puzzled; Kikuchiyo carried on his noisy exploits behind them.

"So you figured out how to lift it? Is it easy?" Gorobei asked.

"Simple."

"Hmmm..." Heihachi looked longingly at his own rice. "How do you do it?"

"Figure it out." Kyuzo muttered, setting the chopsticks back into his bowl. He stepped over to Heihachi's grave, and leaning down, took up the light blue ceramic bowl meant for the lighthearted engineer.

Although he cocked his head slightly, Heihachi reached for in anyway. The result was unsuccessful, and his hand passed through the bowl, at which he let out a dispirited whine, but accidently smacked Kyuzo's hand. If it hadn't been for Kyuzo's nimble fingers that quickly balanced the bowl to keep it from tipping over his palm, the rice would have spilled and Heihachi would have certainly faced another death.

Interested, Gorobei watched in thoughtful silence. Kikuchiyo had given up and joined the entertainer, watching the lesson.

Heihachi pursed his lips in disappointment, which then split into a sheepish smile. "I don't suppose you'd feed me, would you?"

Kyuzo's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Heihachi laughed nervously. "Suppose not."

"Figure it out." Kyuzo repeated.

"How're we supposed to figure it out if you don't tell us!?" Kikuchiyo chastised.

"Concentrate." Kyuzo muttered again.

Tilting his head, Heihachi stared thoughtfully at the rice bowl in Kyuzo's hand, and stroked his chin with gloved fingers. "How did you do it?"

"Focus on it." Kyuzo instructed. "Imagine touching it, and concentration."

Daring another attempt, Heihachi reached for it, and with several more attempts, finally came up with the bowl between his fingers. With a joyful cry, he quickly mastered picking the chopsticks in his other hand and began eating.

Soon after, Gorobei had mastered it. Amused, he watched as Heihachi relished his first taste of rice in days, which the woodcutter seemed to take as a very serious thing.

Kyuzo had set his bowl down, apparently not interested in eating at the moment, and instead gazed at their surroundings while the others ate. Several minutes later he began to step away. Gorobei was the first to notice, but said nothing.

Striding casually away, Kyuzo was soon behind some trees, which the spirit didn't bother to evade. He slid through them, a ghostly image that didn't need to consider the rules of physics anymore.

"Hey, isn't he hungry?" Kikuchiyo wondered, noticing the untouched bowl of rice Kyuzo had set down back on the ground in front of his monument.

"Well, I guess he'll eat later. Better come back soon though, or I'll take his." Heihachi said, then tilted his head with realization. "Hey....has anyone ever seen Kyuzo eat?"

The three exchanged curious glances. It seemed none of them had ever actually seen the almost aristocratic samurai eat. He obviously had to eat, but it seemed he took precaution to avoid eating within sight of anyone else. Appearing only after everyone else had eaten for dinner for what was left, Kyuzo also presumably took food to consume elsewhere for breakfast and lunch.

"What a weird guy." Kikuchiyo scratched his head. "What is he, a squirrel?"

Gorobei shrugged. "Every person has their way."

Heihachi was quiet for a few seconds, then started giggling into his hand.

"What is it?" Kikuchiyo asked, and the rice man only laughed harder.

He shook his hand when they asked him why, his young face split into a silly grin. "Oh, it's nothing, nothing. Don't mind me."

They gave up, and Heihachi never did explain why.

* * *

It was already deep into the afternoon when Kyuzo returned. At this point, he only sat in front of his grave. He crossed his legs and held his back straight, in his careful posture. He didn't look at the others, whose eyes were all set on him and the bowl of rice and pair of chopsticks six inches away from his left knee.

What Kyuzo didn't know was that his three companions, bored in death, had came up with the resolution to see him eat his rice. They simply had little better to do with their time. People-watching the few villagers that came through this particular way had gotten somewhat old; and already they were returning home for the night. Feeling they might as well watch the miracle of Kyuzo consuming his rice offering, they had awaited his return.

Eventually, Kyuzo became aware of the eyes intently watching him. Growing increasingly irritated, he glanced around them. With eyes as intimidating in death as they were in life, it didn't take long for modest Heihachi and mild-mannered Gorobei to turn their gaze away, neither wishing to provoke Kyuzo by prolonged staring. Even Kikuchiyo grumbled and wandered a few steps away, unable to withstand the intense red glare.

Dipping below distant mountains, the sun disappeared. The light faded from orange to pink and finally drained to blue. The moon soon put them to sleep, and one by one they drifted off.

The next morning, they were appalled to find Kyuzo's bowl empty.

"WE MISSED IT!" Kikuchiyo was in despair. For some reason it had become a semi-serious game.

"Awh...that's sneaky..." Heihachi laughed and rubbed the back of his head.

Gorobei chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "Well men, we have plenty of time, let's enjoy the hunt."

Kyuzo had absolutely no idea what the problem was over his bowl.

* * *

Heihachi was laughing because he was imagining a Kyuzo-squirrel(It was kinda obvious, yeah?). Some time ago it was a joke in a failed S7 fanfic I started, which I later discarded. Originally, Katsu was the character who died laughing imagining it, but Heihachi's probably the only one silly enough to actually think about it. He'll probably share the joke later with Gorobei, though ;)


End file.
